


Of Roaring Hounds and Baby Birds

by Andromeda964



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda964/pseuds/Andromeda964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor's daughter has a bad dream and comes to him for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Roaring Hounds and Baby Birds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! Okay, I believe a warning is in order. This fic is short and disgustingly sweet. I'm a full-time student suffering under an ungodly workload and I wanted to write something short and happy to relieve a little stress. In this fic we are going to pretend that Daenerys is on the throne and Sandor and Sansa are married and living in Winterfell. Sandor might be a little OOC for some of you, but I'm of the opinion that there's a nice guy under all that scowling and growling and sometimes it's fun to see Sandor being more gentle than usual. Don't hate me! 
> 
> There are a few minor curse words in this fic. I tagged it Gen b/c they're seriously not that bad, guys. Seriously. 
> 
> Okay, I'm rambling now. I don't own anything. Blah blah blah. Enjoy!

Every muscle in Sandor's body tensed, ready for action, at the sound of quiet footsteps in his room. He opened his eyes just enough to visualize the greatsword lying on the table close to his bed, but did not move to grab it. The intruder in his room was obviously trying to sneak up on him from behind and he didn't want them to know that they had stirred his warrior's senses and pulled him from sleep. Sandor held his breath and listened closely. The second that the footsteps stopped and the intruder prepared to strike he would roll out of bed and lunge for his sword. Sandor had always been fast and the person currently attempting to murder him in his sleep would realize what was happening far too late to do anything about it. He would be dead before he hit the floor. 

 

Sandor's heart beat rapidly in his chest and the familiar sensation of battle adrenaline surged through his body. Sweat broke out across his skin, but cooled quickly as the chilly northern air seeped in through his window. Lesser men would have been cold and terrified, but Sandor felt invigorated and completely focused. He was in his element and he was ready for blood. The footsteps came closer, closer and then stopped. 

 

There was one moment of absolute silence. 

 

And then, Sandor heard the person draw breath and made his move. He sucked in a deep breath and, fast as lightning, rolled over and grabbed the hilt of his sword. He let the momentum of his body bring him to his feet and with an almighty roar whirled around to lop the head off of the poor bastard who thought he could assassinate Sandor Clegane. 

 

He heard the high-pitched, terrified scream just before the angelic face of his five year old daughter came into view. Sandor's battle cry turned into a gasp of complete horror. With every ounce of strength he had, he stopped the movement of his body and dropped his sword as quickly as he would have if it had burst into flames. The heavy sword clanged loudly on the stone floor and the sound startled his daughter so badly she fell over and scrambled on hands and knees to get away from it. 

 

"SEVEN HELLS, CHILD, WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SNEAKING UP ON ME?"

 

His daughter whimpered at the anger in his voice and hid her face from him. Before she had a chance to answer Sandor turned away from her, sat on the edge of his bed, and dropped his head into his hands. He knew he shouldn't yell at his daughter, but she had scared him badly. Gods, he'd nearly chopped her damn head off! His brooding was interrupted by a quiet sniffle and he turned to face his daughter. She was huddled against the wall clad in only her little nightgown and clutched the doll Sandor had given her for her last name day tightly to her chest. She looked up at him and Sandor cursed under his breath at the tear tracks on her plump cheeks. 

 

The primal need to comfort his daughter was overwhelming and he immediately stood and paced around the bed to kneel in front of her. The adrenaline and shock were wearing off and Sandor realized he was shaking. He sat down on the floor and reached out for the mass of trembling limbs that was his youngest child. 

 

"Come here, Cate. It's alright, my love."

 

Sandor sighed in relief when she crawled into his lap without hesitation. At least she wasn't scared of him. He wrapped his heavily muscled arms around her and crushed her tiny body to his chest. The fire that had been roaring in his fireplace when he went to sleep was nothing but embers and the room was uncomfortably cold outside of the warm covers of his bed. He rocked her gently in his arms and spoke to her in a much quieter voice.

 

"I'm sorry," he said as he as he stroked her auburn tresses. "Do you remember what I told you about me being a warrior before I married your mother? You can't sneak up on me like that, baby bird. I'm a skittish old dog and I could hurt a little thing like you. If I'm sleeping you need to call out my name. Do you understand?"

 

He felt her nod her head under his chin and drew her away from his chest to look her in the eye. 

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"I had a bad dream." 

 

Sandor felt awful. Here she was seeking him out for comfort and, judging by the sound of her scream earlier, he had nearly scared her to death. He looked forlornly at the bed. Sansa was currently away for a short visit with Daenerys in the capitol and had left Sandor to look after Winterfell and their children while she was gone. She would be returning in the morning, but he wished she was here now. Sansa was much better at soothing the nerves of upset children than he was. His love for Sansa and his offspring had gentled his rage, but he still felt gruff and awkward around his three children sometimes. He had no problem protecting them, but consoling them was another matter entirely and something he was still trying to get accustomed to. He could guarantee that if Cate had come to Sansa after a bad dream that Sansa would not have thought she was an assassin and tried to kill her. Gods, the little bird could never find out about this. She would kill him! 

 

"Papa?"

 

His daughter seemed to have gotten over her scare and was looking at him expectantly. Sandor shot another glance at the bed and then turned to face his daughter. Sansa was not here, so it was up to Sandor to make Cate feel better. 

 

"Do you want to talk about your dream?"

 

"I was walking in the forest with you and Mama. It got dark and I got lost. I was calling your name, but I couldn't find you. The wolves were howling." 

 

Cate's lower lip quivered and she looked to be on the verge of tears again. 

 

"Cate there's nothing to be scared of. Sansa and I would never leave you alone in the woods. Even if you were to get lost, remember that you have your mother's Stark blood. The wolves won't harm you."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes, really. Your mother once owned a direwolf and direwolves are far more frightening than wolves. Did you know that?

 

His daughter shook her head and stared at him with wide blue eyes. 

 

"What happened to her direwolf?"

 

Sandor's expression darkened. 

 

"She died a very long time ago. That's all you need to know."

 

His daughter seemed to know not to push the issue and Sandor was grateful. He stood up quickly with Cate still in her arms and smiled at her softly. 

 

"I know just what you need to make you feel better. Come on, little one."

 

Sandor made his way out of his and Sansa's bedroom and to Winterfell's kitchen. He set his daughter down at a small table in the corner and then went on the hunt. He had asked the cook to prepare lemon cakes for Sansa's arrival tomorrow and he found them quickly enough. He brought the tray over and set it down in front of his daughter before sitting next to her. She looked up at him with a startled expression and he let out a rough laugh. 

 

"Go on, take one. I know you love them almost as much as your mother does. It can be our secret."

 

While she nibbled happily on a lemon cake Sandor took the time to gaze at her. Their first two children had been boys and while they were handsome little lads they were not strikingly beautiful like his daughter. With her porcelain skin, large blue eyes, and auburn hair she was the very image of her mother. The day she had been born Sandor had been astounded that something so utterly perfect could have come from him. The maester had placed her delicate body in his large warrior's hands and Sandor had gone to stand by the window while Sansa was being attended to. While he stood there staring at her tiny face she had opened her blue eyes and looked at him for the first time. He had been emotional for the births of his sons, but Sandor had been completely overwhelmed at the tiny person he held in his arms. Standing there with his back to the other people in the room, he had cried a few silent tears while stroking his daughter's velvety cheek. His daughter didn't know it, but she owned his heart more effectively than anybody ever had since Sansa had swept into his life and altered his whole existence. 

 

Sansa had wanted to name her Catelyn, but Sandor didn't want his daughter to have a name associated with so much sadness for his wife. They had settled on shortening Catelyn to Cate and Sandor had jokingly said that now he had a baby bird and a little bird. He didn't protest when the nickname stuck. 

 

Cate's eyelids began to droop as she swallowed the last bite of her lemon cake and Sandor scooped her up out of the chair. She dropped her head against his shoulder and Sandor listened as her breathing evened out. He carried her back to his chambers to retrieve the doll she had left lying on his floor before heading to her own room to tuck her gently into bed. He dropped a soft kiss to her forehead and she mumbled quietly in her sleepy state. 

 

"I love you, Papa."

 

"I love you, too. Sweet dreams, baby bird."

**Author's Note:**

> This was just for fun! Reviews are always welcome and appreciated and I hope you enjoyed it! :)


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